Rainy Day in Baseballland - Chapter 1

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Rainy Day in Baseballland

by Tradere

Libraries: Poetry and Song Lyrics

Published on / 1 Chapter(s) / 1 Review(s)

Updated on

Poem about a kid's imagination during a rainy day.

Rainy Day in Baseballland

Based on: Casey at the Bat


It was a rainy day in Baseballland

The players were home in bed

One rookie rolled over his eyelids a flutter

With dreams of a stand-up triple running through his head


The cleats and spikes were all on hooks

Along with mitts, bats, and caps

And even Cal Ripken Jr. had settled down

For a long summer’s nap


Outside the rain was pouring down

While puddles drenched the field

But little Eric Hopkins came to play

And his imagination refused to yield


His mitt lay soggy in a puddle

And his sleeves were drenched with rain

As his hands clenched a cold bat with a hope

“That springs eternal in the human brain.”


Little Eric threw the ball up swung and missed,

And the umpire bawked, “Strike one!”

He tapped his cleats, picked up the ball, and reminded the ghost crowd,

“This rain won’t ruin my fun.”


For little Eric loved the game

And he loved the feel of stitched leather in his hands

As he waved to his mom, who sat with his fabricated wife

And his invented kids up there in the fantasy stands


And now the imaginary pitcher holds the ball

And now he lets it go

But little Eric swung and missed again

Which made two strikes in a row


He metaphorically dusted himself off

And picked up the ball once more

For often he wished that instead of three strikes

The batter could get four


But today he realized, it was his day

His wishes were his commands

So as he squeezed the water from his jersey

As he raised his finger toward the left-field stands


He was Babe Ruth, Mark McGwire, Ken Griffey Jr,

and Barry Bonds all together

And anything you said about lightning or thunder

Wouldn’t be getting him out of this weather


For in his head the sun was shinning

And the grass was green and dry

And he sent that low and away 0-2 pitch

Like a rocket into the sky


And he arrogantly trotted around the bases

Stepped on third and headed toward home plate

While his mother yelled from down the street,

“Dinner’s cold and you are late!”

Excerpt from:
The Spit of Siann
By: Joseph DeMarco

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